


Tenure Track

by disturbedbydesign



Category: American Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disturbedbydesign/pseuds/disturbedbydesign
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Professor Renner fic. Professors Renner and Shaw have always had a contentious relationship, but things heat up when an associate professorship in their department opens up and the battle for tenure begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tenure Track

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badcircuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badcircuit/gifts).



They had always been rivals, since the year they both started as assistant professors in the Neuroscience Department. Professors Shaw and Renner were both bright and ambitious and competitive by nature, but their relationship with each other had been volatile from the very beginning. Professor Renner was cocky and arrogant, and even though every professor had a doctorate, he was one of the few that insisted all his students call him Doctor. Mallory Shaw was more laid back in the classroom; she never acted above her students. Her main goal as a professor was to help shape and nurture the next generation of great minds in the field, to instill in them the same passion for the subject that she had. She left her mellow attitude at the door when it came to Jeremy, though. He had a way about him that had brought her claws out from the very first day they met.

Mallory had been nervous the morning of the New Faculty Orientation. A full day of meeting colleagues, getting acclimated to what life would be like at the university, and just generally trying to put her best face forward and start off on a good note put the pressure on. She had always been a science nerd and not much of a people person, though her social skills had gotten much better over the years. Mal approached the orientation a bit more meekly than perhaps she should have, but she thought to herself that there was no harm in being humble and taking it all in. She had a lot to learn, and the people she would meet had a lot of wisdom to provide her.

Professor Renner had first caught her eye in the morning seminar. He was handsome, but that’s not why he stood out. It was the way he was sitting there, shirtsleeves rolled up and jacket discarded, lounging back in his chair like he owned the place even though it was his very first day. Everyone else was attentive, but he looked completely checked out, like he had better things to do. She didn’t yet know his name or anything about him, but he’d left a bad taste in her mouth almost instantly, and it only got worse when they formally met. There had been a lovely cocktail reception after the full day of orientation, with a dinner to follow, and both being fresh meat in the same department, they had been assigned the same table. He was drunk – not overly so, but it was obvious that he’d done some damage during the cocktail hour where Mal had been too nervous about first impressions to have more than one glass of wine, and even that was just to calm her nerves. He plopped into the seat next to her, putting his beer on the table with more force than was necessary, and introduced himself.

“Dr. Jeremy Renner,” he’d said, sticking out his hand, “but you probably know that already. So you’re the illustrious Mallory Shaw, huh?”

Mal had been confused and she must have looked it because he just laughed at her. The sound would have been infectious if he hadn’t been oozing condescension from every pore.

“I know who you are,” he’d said. “I did my research before I showed up. I take it from the look on your face that you didn’t. Not a great start, hon.”

“You’re right,” she’d said. “I don’t know who you are. And don’t call me hon.”

From that moment forward the two of them had a contentious relationship. Mal would have liked to keep their distaste for each other more discrete, but Jeremy loved a good show. He liked one-upmanship, he liked to be the smartest guy in the room, and he didn’t seem to give a fuck that these unfortunate character traits made him come off like the most arrogant asshole ever to roam the campus. It infuriated Mal to no end, not wholly because of his attitude but also because no one could deny that he was brilliant. She wouldn’t go so far as to say he was smarter than she was, but he had the brains to back up the bullshit. It didn’t help matters that he was sexy and he knew it. It was to be expected that his female (and some of his male) students would be smitten, but the shameless flirting by some of the faculty came as something of a shock to her. With the exception of the near-constant bickering between her and Jeremy, Mal was a consummate professional, and while (though she was loathe to admit it) she understood his appeal, she found it in poor taste to be so blatant about it.

Not surprisingly, Jeremy loved the attention – whether because he was an egomaniac or because it was just another way he could put himself above everybody else she didn’t know – and he walked around most of the time with his signature cocky swag and shit-eating grin. Whenever he would point it in her direction, Mal felt the urge to slap it straight off his face. She never gave him that kind of attention, would never give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was secretly attracted to him. She had no interest in actually exploring those thoughts, though, because the second he opened his mouth he became ugly to her, and that man never could shut the fuck up. One of the highlights of Mal’s first year at the university had come at the end-of-year faculty party, when Jeremy had hit on her and she’d shut him down. Later he’d claimed he’d had “beer goggles” and that he wouldn’t fuck her if she was the last person on earth. She’d responded in kind, but he just laughed at her and shook his head. He was dismissive and haughty and it pissed her the fuck off but she let it go because she knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her and she wasn’t going to let him.

Back then she’d thought that maybe he was just trying to save face, but the string of women he had dated over the years (if one could even call it dating) was proof to her that she was most definitely not his type. He went for women who were beautiful but vapid, and it didn’t surprise her that one of his prerequisites was to be of superior intelligence. He liked arm candy, women he could fuck and chuck without forming any sort of emotional connection to complicate things. Mal found it sad but fitting and she let it go without commentary, accepting it as yet another example that he was the type of man she wanted nothing to do with. On occasion, when he would parade his latest conquest around, she would experience a hint of jealousy – not because she wanted to be the woman on his arm but because she was, for the most part, always alone. Mal never could find the time to date properly, and the few men she’d started relationships with over the years always came second to her work. She found that men didn’t like that and after a while she’d just stopped trying.

As the years passed her relationship with Jeremy remained competitive, but their bickering grew more playful than nasty. Like it or not, they had been forced to work in close quarters for a long while, and the more time Mal spent with him, the more she started to understand what made him tick – or at least she thought she did. No longer did her blood boil the second he opened his mouth, nor did his arrogance immediately put her off. She still wanted to punch him in the face half the time, but she grew to appreciate his humor and respect his intellect, even though she thought he had the absolute worst way of showing those two sides of himself. Vicious arguments turned to banter and teasing, and Mal stopped letting Jeremy get to her. She just found it funny now, the way he always had to be right, always had to have the last word, always had to be bigger and better and brighter than everyone else. Maybe part of it was that she grew more confident in herself as she got older and, no matter what kind of shit came out of his mouth, he couldn’t make her feel insecure. Maybe it was because she was convinced that deep down he was plagued with self-doubt. Or maybe, despite everything, she’d just grown to like him for reasons she couldn’t explain.

Regardless of the way their relationship had progressed, all niceties went out the window when an associate professorship in the department opened up. The battle for tenure was always ugly, but no two people were more fiercely competitive with each other than Renner and Shaw, to the point where members of the department had a not-so-secret pool going as to which one of them would go farther in the process, with side bets as to how many public arguments the two would have before it was all said and done. They weren’t the only qualified candidates, but in Jeremy’s mind the position was already his and Mal wanted it so badly she could taste it. They had both published extensively, they were both well respected, and they were both exceptionally gifted. Their areas of research, however, were vastly different. Professor Shaw’s research was on the neurology of human sexual behavior where Professor Renner’s focus was on Alzheimer’s. It was the one thing about him that Mal found admirable: the passion and dedication with which he threw himself into his research and the search for a cure.

He didn’t share the same respect for her work, though, and it pissed her off. He made a habit of waltzing into her lab late at night, throwing his glasses down on the table and hoisting himself up to sit next to her while she pored over research results, talking shit and trying to distract her. One night, about a week before her tenure package was due, he was especially obnoxious.

“How’s the rat fucking going, Shaw?”

“Can you not contaminate my workspace?”

“Just came to watch the show.”

“Not that it’s any of your business but I haven’t used the rats in over a year.”

He laughed that rusty laugh of his and jumped down off the table.

“What?” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “Wasn’t doing it for you anymore?”

Mal looked at him with disdain but he kept going, trying to get a rise out of her as usual.

“Don’t worry about it, Shaw. Everyone has their kinks. I mean, probing rat brains and watching them go at it isn’t really for everybody but to each her own, am I right?”

Mal sighed deep, trying to keep her focus. “Don’t you have work to do, Renner?”

“Nah,” he said. “I’m practically done. Besides, I’d much rather sit here and watch the genius at work. Really important stuff you’re doing, Shaw. Groundbreaking.”

Mal tried her best to control herself but she’d never been much good at it where Jeremy was concerned.

“Get the fuck out of my lab,” she snapped.

“Hit a nerve, did I? Don’t be so touchy. You’ll get wrinkles if you keep scowling like that.”

She threw her pen down and turned to him, seething.

“I hope you go down in flames, you arrogant fuck.”

He just smiled. “You know what your problem is, Mal?”

“Oh, this should be good. Please, tell me what my problem is.”

“You spend all your time studying sex but you’re not getting any.”

That was below the belt and they both knew it, and the two of them stood in a silent staring contest for a while. Mal hated herself for doing it, but she broke first and turned away.

“Get out,” she said.

“Mal-“ he started, but she cut him off.

“NOW.”

He didn’t say another word, just gathered his things and left, and Mal didn’t look up until she knew he was long gone. She knew he was just trying to throw her off her game and she was used to his little digs at her and her work, but for whatever reason – be it the stress or the lack of sleep or the fact that he was right in assuming she hadn’t been laid in longer than she cared to remember – he really got to her that night, in a way he hadn’t since their first year of working together. It was a jape but it was a cruel and unnecessary one, and even though she had tons of work left to do she decided to call it a night. Her focus was completely gone. He’d gotten what he’d come for.

When she saw him at the coffee truck the next day she ignored him. Their usual routine was to get into some verbal spar over breakfast, but that day just the sight of him made her stomach turn. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of a nasty look; she just grabbed her usual large coffee and bagel and headed up to her office. She locked the door and pulled the blinds, not because she thought he’d follow her but because she needed to be completely alone, with a laser focus on her work, or she wouldn’t have a chance in hell at beating him out for tenure – and she had to now. If any part of her would have been happy for him before, it was gone, and all she wanted in the world was to see the look of abject humiliation on his face when she bested him.

Mal managed to avoid him for the rest of the week. He’d stopped coming down to the lab, if he was going down to the truck it wasn’t at his usual time, and if they had walked past each other coming and going on campus she had been too busy stressing over completing her package to notice. She ended up submitting it a day early, not that it would have any bearing on her chances, but it was a small victory and she decided to celebrate it. She made plans to have drinks with a friend from the English department and finished grading some assignments, and for the first time in as long as she could remember she felt relaxed. It was out of her hands now, and she’d done the best she could.

She met up with Liza at her favorite bar. She liked it less for the ambiance and more for the fact that it was far enough off campus that it wasn’t filled with students, and only a few of the professors ever went there. The ones who did frequent the place all did so for the same reason: the unspoken rule that faculty members were not to acknowledge each other within the confines of those walls. Liza bought the first round of drinks and they toasted and laughed and chatted about things completely unrelated to academia. Liza was painfully familiar with her history with Jeremy but Mal hadn’t told her about their last encounter, so when Liza brought him up in passing and Mal clenched her jaw, she knew something was up.

“What did that asshole do this time?”

“Oh, he was just being himself.”

Liza laughed and took a swig of her beer.

“You know he wants to fuck you, right? Please tell me you know that because you cannot possibly be that stupid.”

Now it was Mal’s turn to laugh. “No, he really doesn’t. But he has no problem reminding me that no one else does either.”

“Well, that’s one approach.”

“Just let it go.”

Liza was about to respond but something at the door caught her eye and she cursed under her breath.

“What?”

“Lothario incoming,” Liza said with a smile.

“Great,” Mal said, taking down the rest of her wine. “And I was having such a lovely day.”

“Just ignore him,” Liza said. “Them’s the rules.”

Mal busied herself by getting the next round and she was able to forget him for a while, but she couldn’t help but notice him in the corner booth with his laptop, papers strewn everywhere, looking miserable and stressed as fuck. It made her happy to see him like that after all the shit he’d pulled with her. For all his big talk, she had finished before him and, with hours left on his deadline, he was sitting in a bar looking like he would never make it.

“I’m sorry,” Mal said. “I just have to. This is too good.”

“Mal…”

“No, fuck that. All he has done for weeks is give me shit and try to sabotage me. I get one.”

She didn’t wait for Liza’s response because she didn’t care. If there was a moment tailor-made for her, it was this one, and she grabbed her drink off the bar and strode purposefully over to Jeremy’s booth. Mal put her glass on the table and sat down without an invitation, flashing him the same variety of smirk he’d been giving her since the day they met.

“Cutting it a little close, aren’t we, Renner?”

She took a sip of her wine, expecting him to retort with some kind of cheeky comment or insult or some combination of the two but instead he just looked at her through his horn-rimmed glasses and he had the saddest face she’d ever seen. His blue-green eyes were glassy and she thought for a moment he might cry, and while it was wrong and she should have gotten up that second and left him alone she continued her verbal assault.

“Don’t cry, hon.” She spit the last word at him like venom. “We can’t all make the cut. Maybe next time.”

Mal sat there waiting for him to respond with something vicious but he didn’t say a word, just took his glasses off and held them in his hand while he wiped his brow. He was sweating, though the bar was air-conditioned, and she noticed how completely disheveled he looked. His tie was loose enough to be a necklace and his white button down was wrinkled. He’d missed a button, too, and his hair was all over the place. She sat back and took him in for a second and she knew that something was very, very wrong. He usually looked immaculate, which she took as part of his never-ending quest for perfection, but sitting there surrounded by unfinished work and a half drunk beer, he looked like he was on the verge of some sort of breakdown.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice and words sincere. “That was mean. I’ll leave you alone.”

She got up to leave but he reached out and grabbed her arm with a hand so large it could wrap all the way around with room to spare.

“No,” he said, his voice so soft it was barely audible over the music playing. “I’m the one who should be sorry. Sit, Mal. Please.”

“Are you OK?” she asked, sliding back into the booth.

She found herself genuinely concerned and it was a strange feeling because just moments before she wouldn’t have pissed on Jeremy if he was on fire.

“No,” he said. “Not really.”

“You’ll get it done.”

“It’s not that,” he said. He was looking down with a pained expression, his brow furrowed beneath the errant chunks of hair that fell across it.  “It’s my father.”

Mal was in shock, not only because Jeremy was allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of her but because he had never once, in all the years she’d known him, spoke of his family. People in the department would gossip about it, coming up with crazy theories about why he avoided the topic, but she’d always found that childish and distasteful. Mal just accepted that mysterious part of him, like so many other strange things she’d become accustomed to, and she would never dare ask him. Even now that he’d brought it up, she was scared to say anything so she just waited for him to continue.

“He’s… he’s sick. Has been for a long time. He had an episode last night and… well, it’s bad. He’s in the hospital. They don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

Before she even knew what she was doing, Mal reached out and grabbed his hand.

“You should go home, Jeremy. I know you’ve worked really hard but you should be with him.”

“He wouldn’t recognize me if I went,” he replied, and then he looked at her and everything made sense.

Mal wanted to say something kind and reassuring, to let him know that she understood him and that she could forgive him for all the bullshit, but all she could say was, “Oh.”

“Look, I don’t expect you to give a shit. I’ve been really horrible to you.”

“Stop.”

“No, I mean it. I’m really sorry, Mallory. I just…”

He trailed off and squeezed her hand where she held him.

“Let me help you. You’re almost done, right?”

He looked at her like she was insane. “Why would you help me?”

Mal gave him a gentle smile. “Because despite how hard you try to be, you’re not actually a horrible person.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” she said. “Get your shit. I’ll meet you at your office.”

Mal gave Liza the briefest of explanations before she made her apologies and left. She grabbed two large red-eyes at Starbucks on her way back to campus and when she got to Jeremy’s office he was already there, staring at the files and papers that defined his life’s work. He looked paralyzed, and if she’d had any doubts about helping him get his package finished, they were gone when he took the coffee from her outstretched hand and let it linger there for a moment.

He looked into her eyes and said “Thank you” and it was the most sincere she’d ever heard him sound. She suddenly found herself nervous but she didn’t pull her hand away.

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Yes, you have.”

They spent the rest of the night into the early morning getting all his ducks in a row. He was surprisingly disorganized for such a perfectionist and she would have given him shit for it if circumstances were different. She held her tongue, though, because she wasn’t there to shame him. She understood now how intensely personal his work was to him and while she still wanted the position and badly, somehow it wouldn’t seem as satisfying to get it if he wasn’t in the running. It wasn’t about besting him anymore, though; if she was going to get the job, she wanted to beat out the best of the best.

It had been nothing but the sound of clacking keyboards for god knows how long before he broke the silence.

“Go ahead, you can say it.”

“Say what?”

“That I was full of shit when I said I was practically done, that I’m a complete mess, that I’m a prick and an asshole… whatever you want. Just say it. I know you’re thinking it.”

“I’m really not,” she replied.

“You can’t sit there and tell me that some part of you isn’t happy about all this.”

Mal looked at him for a minute before she responded. He had some of his spirit back and she could tell he was ready for her to lay into him, that maybe he even wanted it, but he was wrong about her.

“If you’d asked me a few hours ago I would have been ecstatic that you were completely in the weeds,” she said. “But now… I just don’t feel that way.”

“So you pity me, is that it?”

“Jesus, Renner, will you shut the fuck up and listen for a minute?”

He laughed but he let her continue.

“I know we fight all the time and I call you an asshole and you tell me I’m pathetic and can’t get laid but-”

“I never said you _couldn’t_ get laid,” he said. “I said you _aren’t_ getting laid. There’s a difference.”

 “How the fuck do you know whether or not I’m getting laid, anyway?”

“Come on, Shaw. I know an unfucked woman when I see one.”

Mal rolled her eyes but she had to laugh because he was right.

“I hate you so much sometimes.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

Mal thought for a second that he was trying to push her away, but she realized quickly enough that he just needed their usual bullshit banter. He needed to distract his mind and feel like himself again.

“I’m wading through this hot mess of yours so I can beat you fair and square,” she said with a smirk.

“You still think you have a shot?” he asked. “I could submit this incomplete and have a better chance than you.”

“Go ahead, then.”

She got up and walked toward the door, though she had no intention of leaving. He was close enough to being done at that point, and he could have let her walk out and finished it up on his own, maybe even with time enough to catch a quick nap before submitting it, but he called out from behind her.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

She put her hands on her hips and looked at him. “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“Are you going to make me beg, Shaw?”

“You don’t even need my help anymore.”

“That’s not… I… Will you just please come back here? Christ.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t walk out of this office right now.”

A tiny smile played at the corner of his mouth and he leaned forward in his chair, pushing his glasses down the bridge of his nose to stare at her over the rims.

“If you stay, I’ll tell you a secret.”

Mal couldn’t help but be intrigued, and the wicked way he was looking at her wasn’t helping. She walked over, stopped in front of his desk, and crossed her arms.

“I’m listening.”

He leaned back in his chair and placed his arms on the rests, twiddling his fingers a bit before he began. She noticed those prominent veins in his hands and the bit of his forearms she could see where he’d rolled his sleeves up. However much she’d hated him at times, she never hated the view.

“I had a dream last week,” he said. “You were standing just about where you are now. You’d got the tenure, you’d come to gloat, and you just went on and on – really ripped me a new one. It was impressive.”

“Are you sure it was a dream and not a premonition?” she said, cocking her head and wearing the type of smirk only he could get out of her.

“Part of me hopes it was the latter,” he replied.

“And why might that be?”

She asked the question because it felt like the right thing to say, but she knew. And if she had any doubts they were gone the second he got up out of his chair and circled the desk to stand directly in front of her. He was so close she could feel the heat coming off him.

“Because this is how I got you to shut up.”

He reached around and grabbed her, lifting her onto the desk and moving in for a kiss in one smooth motion – like he’d been practicing it in his head, and maybe he had been because his kiss was hungry and perfect and in that moment all rational thoughts flew out of Mal’s head. Everything was his pillow-soft lips and the tip of his tongue, insistent without being greedy, and the way his big hands seem to span the width of her back as he held her so tight she couldn’t have gotten away if she’d tried. She didn’t want to, though, and she wrapped her legs around him and brought her hands from the back of his neck down to the curve of his ass. It was nice and meaty and it felt as good as it had always looked in those tight khakis he wore, and she couldn’t help herself. She took two handfuls and squeezed, eliciting a delicious little grunt from him that made her ache for more than she was willing to give. When he ran a hand up her back and into her hair she moaned into their kiss and it just egged him on; his mouth took more of hers, his hands gripped her tighter, and she could feel him start to swell in his pants as her thighs strained to pull him closer. It could have been an hour or it could have been a minute but eventually she pulled away because she had no air left to breathe. He didn’t let go, just stood there between her legs, panting and waiting to see what she would do. She didn’t want to but she had to push him off, because if she didn’t stop now she wasn’t sure she would be able to.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, you’re not,” she replied.

She smiled and he smiled back and then they were laughing for what seemed like an eternity and she’d lost her breath again. When she recovered he was laying on the floor, still chuckling, and she hopped down off the desk and stood over him.

“You need to finish,” she said.

“Finish what?”

He reached up and grabbed her hand to try to pull her to the ground on top of him but she snatched it away.

“Your work, you idiot.”

“Don’t you want to know how the dream ends?”

Mal walked towards the door and grabbed her purse from the chair and looked over her shoulder at him with a playful half smile.

“Maybe another time.”

She walked out and closed the door behind her. She was halfway down the hall when she heard him call out from his office.

“I hate-fucked you on the desk.” She stopped dead in her tracks and bit her lip. “And you liked it.”

“Keep dreaming, Renner,” she yelled back, and she left the building, the whole way having to consciously keep herself from walking back into his office and making his dream a reality.

By the time she got home it was almost four in the morning, and though Mal was exhausted she was still reeling from everything that had happened that night. It was more than just the kiss, though her mind was playing it on a loop and taking it further still, into territory they hadn’t explored; it was _him_ – this person she thought she knew, who she could barely stand to be around except for the thrill of winning an argument or getting in a good dig every now and then. He’d always been an adversary, and even those times when she’d enjoyed their banter and games she’d never felt anything real towards him. He’d managed to keep himself so guarded all this time that she’d taken him as one-dimensional. He wasn’t, though. She knew that now, and she felt like, for all the years she’d known him, she’d only just got a glimpse of the person he really was under all the bravado and bullshit.

Mal wondered if he really felt anything for her or whether he had just turned to her for comfort at a difficult moment. More than that, though, she was confused about the feelings she was having for him. Maybe it was nothing more than her pent up sexual desire and frustration coming out, because she had always found him handsome, even from the very beginning, and he’d only gotten better looking with age. She felt a bit stupid for falling into his arms without a fight, but then again he had opened himself up to her that night, told her something he’d never told anyone and shown her a gentler side of himself that she never would have dreamed existed. Besides, she hadn’t been kissed like that in a very long time and it felt good to want and be wanted. She decided she would make no apologies for it, whatever the consequences.

The next morning she arrived at her office to find a note from Jeremy slipped under her door.

_Made it in under the wire. Thanks for everything – and I do mean everything. Good luck, Shaw. You’ll need it._

He’d signed it Jeremy Renner, Ph.D., and though Mal rolled her eyes and muttered “asshole” under her breath, deep down it pleased her. She contemplated crumpling it up and throwing it in the trash but she didn’t, telling herself it would give her good ammunition for whatever stupid argument they would get into next, but really she just wanted to keep it. She tucked it safely in her drawer under some work papers and wore a satisfied smile on her face as she readied herself for class. Mal had to pass by his office to get to her classroom and she had no intention of dropping in but when she saw a note on his door she had to stop and read it. It was brief, informing students and faculty that he would be on leave for a week and providing the information for his substitute. Mal knew he had most likely gone home to see his father and she suddenly felt immeasurably sad, but she had a class to teach and work to do and she had to shake off all thoughts of him or she wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else.

Over the course of that week Mal contemplated calling or texting Jeremy on occasion, even going so far as to compose a message one night. She didn’t send it, though. She just let him be even though she knew that, whatever was happening back at home, he must be going through a rough time. She wanted to let him know that he was in her thoughts, but something stopped her from contacting him. She didn’t know exactly where she stood with him and, even though she was the only one who knew what was going on, in the end she thought it best to just leave him alone. The week seemed to stretch on forever, not only because Jeremy was constantly on her mind in his absence but because she knew that the tenure committee meetings were in progress and decisions were already being made behind closed doors. When Friday night rolled around she couldn’t relax despite it being one of the first free weekends she’d had in ages, and she realized that it had been so long that she had absolutely no idea what to do with free time on her hands. It didn’t help matters that the official announcement was being made on Monday, and by Sunday night she was a ball of nerves. Mal tried to go to bed early that night but it was pointless, and she ended up watching mindless TV to try to take her mind off of what was to come. She was marginally absorbed in some stupid reality show when her phone rang.

“Did I wake you?”

Jeremy’s voice sounded terrible and she just knew.

“No, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Are you back?”

“Yes,” he said, “but not for long.”

“Is he…?” Mal couldn’t say the word, but she didn’t have to.

“Yeah,” he said, and his voice cracked a bit. “Yesterday afternoon.”

“I’m so sorry, Jeremy.” She heard him sniffle at the other end of the line and she felt the tears come. “I should have called you. I almost did a bunch of times but…”

She trailed off because she couldn’t for the life of her think of a good enough reason why she hadn’t.

“I thought you might,” he said. “But I understand why you didn’t.”

“Are you OK?”

“No, but that’s not why I called.” He cleared his throat and continued. “I had a lot of time to think this week and I just wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry for everything.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Yes,” he said. “I do. Listen, whatever happens tomorrow, will you come over for dinner tomorrow night? I have some stuff I want to say.”

“You really don’t have to do this.”

“I want to do it. I need to do it. Just say you’ll come.”

“I’ll come,” she said. “Should I bring anything?”

“Booze maybe? Though I think the type of booze will depend on the committee’s decision.”

Mal laughed and he laughed with her and it made her happy to hear that sound again.

“Will do,” she said. “What time?”

“How’s eight work?”

“Perfect,” she said. “And Jeremy, I really hope you get it.”

She said it because it was true and he was silent for a minute before he spoke.

“I was going to say the same to you.”

She could tell he was sincere and it choked her up a little bit but she managed to say goodnight without her voice betraying her. He did the same and when she hung up she felt some strange combination of sadness and anxiety and excitement and had to take a pill to get to sleep.

She would have been groggy in the morning but she was so jacked up from anxiety that just a few sips of her morning coffee gave her the jitters and made her stomach turn. She had to choke down her bagel, and she did so outside by the truck in the hopes that Jeremy would show up but he didn’t. His office lights were dark and the blinds drawn and she had no idea where he was but she let it go, knowing she would see him later on. The thought both frightened and excited her, but she couldn’t dwell on it because she spent the entire day worrying and wondering and waiting for the announcement. They waited until the very end of the day, and they did it by email: she didn’t get it, and Jeremy didn’t either, and Mal wasn’t sure how she felt about it. The person who got the position was undoubtedly qualified and deserving and she held no animosity toward him, but she was conflicted. She was obviously disappointed that she didn’t get it, but there was a part of her that was even more disappointed for Jeremy. With the week he’d had, she didn’t know how he was taking the news. It was only a few minutes after the email went out that she got his text.

_So, scotch then?_

Mal responded immediately: _Definitely scotch._

_Good. And for God’s sake bring something decent, Shaw. I’ve had a rough week._

Mal smiled. She was in the mood for a good old-fashioned verbal spar and she could tell he was too.

_You’ll drink what I bring you and like it, Renner._

_Is that any way to speak to a man who is cooking you dinner?_

_I don’t know. I would have to ask a real man._

_You wouldn’t know a real man if he bit you on the ass._

_Biting isn’t really my thing._

_Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it._

_I’ll pass._

_I’ll just queue up_ The Notebook _on Netflix for you then. Maybe light some candles._

_You’re an asshole._

_You love it. See you at 8._

Mal tried to think of a response, some way to get the last word on him, but her mind was drawing a blank and she knew he’d never let her win anyway. More than that, he was right, and where normally she would have hated herself for feeling that way, she just didn’t give a shit anymore. She felt like flirting and drinking and fucking, and if he wanted to leave a few bite marks on her, she’d give as good as she got.

She still had work she could have been doing but Mal found herself unable to concentrate on anything other than what might be in store for her that evening so she left her business unfinished and headed to the liquor store, picking up a nicely aged bottle of scotch before going home to shower and change. She found herself standing in a towel, staring into her closet and wondering what the fuck one is supposed to wear in a situation like this. There was no need for pretense so it seemed silly to dress up, but it felt strange to go completely casual since she’d never seen him in anything but his work attire, which for years had consisted of various button ups and slacks, with a sweater or a blazer or a suit jacket and tie depending on the season and occasion. She stood there so long she started to run late and she knew she’d never hear the end of it if she was tardy and overdressed, so she went for a pair of snug jeans and a tank top with a cardigan. It was something she might wear to the store or for a drink with friends, something that didn’t smack of her desperate need to be fucked by him. She wore her nicest bra, though – the lacy one that made her tits look phenomenal – and the panties to match. Mal was never one for complicated hair and makeup so she kept it simple and natural, though she wore her hair down instead of in its usual messy bun. She gave herself one last once-over in the mirror and, content with the results, she grabbed her purse and the bottle of scotch and started the short walk over to Jeremy’s house, only a few blocks away from her own.

She was fifteen minutes late and when she rang the bell she readied herself for the inevitable barrage of shit she was going to take for it. When he opened the door she held up the bottle in silent apology but it didn’t get her off the hook.

“What’s up, loser? Forget how to read a clock?”

Mal took a step to move inside but he blocked her, his body filling the doorframe. He was wearing jeans and a V-neck t-shirt and while it was odd to see him dressed down, she liked it. Despite everything, he looked relaxed, and it was a good look on him, especially the exposed biceps. She’d only ever imagined what they might look like straining under the fabric of his dress shirts and the reality did not disappoint.

“I’m not the only loser here. Just let me in so I can start drinking.”

He shook his head and grinned at her. “I don’t tolerate tardiness in my classroom. Why should this be any different?”

“I swear to God if you don’t let me in right now I am going to break this bottle over your head.”

“I think you should apologize.”

“Are you serious?”

He smirked at her and nodded and she rolled her eyes but part of her loved the game and she was more than willing to play it.

“Oh, Professor Renner, I am _soooo_ sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “It won’t happen again I swear.”

“Better not,” he said, and he moved aside so she could enter.

His house looked like she’d expected it to: clean but masculine, not unlike the man himself. He came around from behind her and snatched the bottle out of her hands and she was struck by the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to feed you,” he replied, walking over to the stovetop where he had some sort of sauce working in a pan.

“Fine, then. No scotch for you.”

“It seems we’re at an impasse,” he said, removing the sauce from the heat and stirring in some butter and herb blend. “But since you brought me the good stuff, as requested, I’ll cut you a break.”

“Oh, you’re too kind. Point me to the glasses. I need a fucking drink like I need air.”

He tapped on one of the cabinet doors as he continued his prep and she grabbed two heavy-bottomed tumblers off the shelf.

“Ice?”

“Really, Shaw?”

“Didn’t think so.”

She poured them each a few fingers and brought his glass over to him, peeking over his shoulder to see what he was working on.

“You never answered my question,” she said as he took his glass from her hand.

“Chateaubriand,” he replied. “You can thank me later. So what are we toasting to because I can’t think of anything even remotely positive right now.”

She wanted to toast to the way his fucking arms looked in that shirt but she thought that might be a bit forward and she thought of a much more appropriate subject, however difficult.

“Why don’t we toast to your father?” she said, and the second she did she regretted it because his face fell, but then he turned to her with a sad smile on his face.

“That’s a good one,” he said softly. “I like that.”

They clinked glasses and took their respective sips and it was silent for a while before Jeremy spoke.

“I think he would have gotten a real kick out of you,” he said. “Would have loved to watch you call me on my bullshit.”

Mal smiled. “Someone’s gotta do it.”

Jeremy huffed out a chuckle. “He used to say the same damn thing every time my sister and I would get into it when we were younger.”

“So you were always a little shit, then?”

He smiled as he grabbed a carving knife from the drawer. “Pretty much.”

He took the foil tent off the roast and Mal’s mouth began to water it looked and smelled so good.

“Go sit,” he said as he started to slice. “I’m almost done.”

“Can I help?”

“I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?”

He looked at her, and she could see his grateful eyes behind his glasses. They were black-rimmed ones, not his usual pair, but they fit his face quite well and she smiled before she took a seat at the table.

“I have to say,” she said as he brought their plates to the table, “I never took you for much of a chef. I half expected Chinese takeout.”

“Well, I’m just full of surprises, now aren’t I?” He set her plate in front of her – perfectly cooked meat and golden brown potatoes drizzled in sauce – and it looked like it could have come from the kitchen of a five-star restaurant.

“Nice presentation,” she said, picking up her fork and knife.

He plopped down in his seat across from her and winked. “I try.”

When Mal took her first bite she had to stop herself from moaning. He just watched her, waiting to hear what she would say. She held off at first, mostly because she was absolutely starving and wanted to devour everything on her plate, but once she had a few sizeable bites in her she had to compliment the chef.

“It pains me to say this, but this is really good.”

“I have many hidden talents.”

He was using that fucking tone of his that drove her crazy but she didn’t care because he had just cooked her a lovely dinner and he himself looked good enough to eat and all she could do was laugh at his hubris and keep working on her food until it was gone. If she was alone she would have licked the plate clean but she exercised the necessary restraint, gently setting down her silverware before grabbing her glass of scotch.

“That was delicious,” she said. “Thank you.”

“No,” he replied, “thank you.”

His mouth was half full and his words were a bit garbled but she got the message just fine.

“You really don’t need to thank me, Jeremy.”

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and threw it aside.

“Yes, I do. I’ve been a complete dick to you since the moment I met you. You had absolutely no reason to help me and every reason in the world not to but you did. I don’t know why you did, but you did, and I just need you to know that it meant a lot to me and that I’m sorry.”

Mal didn’t really know what to say, but she had questions for him and she figured there was no time like the present.

“Can you ask you something?”

“Anything.” His face was dead serious and she knew that, if she was going to ask, it had to be now.

“Why do you act the way you do? Because it is an act, I know it is.”

“Are you referring to the way I act with everyone or the way I act with you?”

“Are they different?”

“Yes.” He rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses and took a sip of his drink. “Well maybe not the way I act but the reason behind it.”

“Well then please tell me because I really want to understand.”

“The term ‘daddy issues’ comes to mind,” he began, “but that doesn’t really cover it. It’s complicated and I’ll spare you the gory details but some of the bullet points… gifted child, high expectations, middle-child syndrome, blah blah blah. Fast forward to when Dad got sick. I was still an undergrad and I remember thinking ‘this is what I’m supposed to be doing’ but no matter how hard I studied then or how much work and research I did after, nothing changed. It just kept getting worse and I felt so helpless and it gave me this fucking complex where I feel like I constantly have something to prove.”

“There are better ways to go about it than being a complete prick. Everyone knows you’re a genius.”

“Well, I don’t feel like one.”

“Look,” she said. “I get it. I do. I’m really not as stupid as you think I am.”

“That’s another thing,” he said, and he paused, taking down the last of his scotch before continuing. “I don’t think you’re stupid. I never have. But I still cut you down and belittled you and your work every fucking chance I got, and when I tell you that there is nothing I’ve done over the years that I regret more than that, I mean it.”

Mal looked at his face and she could see he was nervous, but he was sincere and she believed him and forgave him, though she knew she probably shouldn’t. One apology after years of his bullshit seemed like too little, too late, but she didn’t want to be mad at him – not now, not after everything he’d been through, not when she was just starting to scratch the surface of this man she’d thought she’d known.

“Well thank you for saying that,” she said. “And for the record I knew you didn’t think I was stupid. I thought you just enjoyed getting a rise out of me.”

“I did,” he said, and he smiled. “Still do. You do this thing where you purse your lips and then breathe all heavy when you get really pissed off and it’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“What?” she snapped.

“You heard me. Some days I just need to see it and I don’t give a fuck what I have to do to get it.”

Mal just stared at him, incredulous for a moment, before she could gather a thought enough to speak.

“So you’re telling me that you’ve been taunting me for years because you like the way I look when I’m angry?”

“That’s a very simplistic way of looking at it, but yes. Basically.”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

She got up and grabbed the bottle from the kitchen and brought it back to the table, pouring herself a fresh glass. He held his out for a refill but she just pushed the bottle towards him.

“You mad?” he asked. He was grinning like an idiot and she didn’t know whether to slap him or rip his shirt off or both.

“I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

“Come on, Mal. You had to know. Maybe you really are stupid.”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

He licked his lower lip and flashed his signature smirk at her. “That an invitation?”

Mal had to smile, though she was shaking her head.

“Oh, Professor Renner, what am I going to do with you?”

“Well you are the resident expert in human sexual behavior. I’m sure you’ve picked up a few things over the years.”

“Well,” she said, matter-of-factly as she could given the circumstances, “disappointing as this may be for you, your brain is your largest sex organ.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Sad, but true,” she said, and continued. “Men tend to respond to visual stimuli. So if I were to, say, take off this cardigan, your brain might start to react.”

She shed her top layer but he kept his poker face.

“Not doing it for me,” he said, and he got up out of his chair and stood behind her and spoke low in her ear. “Maybe lose the shirt, too.”

He reached down and hooked his fingers under the bottom of her tank top, lightly grazing her skin before pulling it up. She raised her arms to let him get it off her and when it was gone he tossed it aside.

“Let’s have a look,” he said, and she rose from her chair and leaned back against the table. He took her in for a moment and cocked his head. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Now comes the fun part.” She reached out and touched his chest to feel his heartbeat and she smiled before she took his pulse. “Right now your hypothalamus is stimulating your pituitary gland to produce sex hormones and release them into your bloodstream. Your sympathetic nervous system is increasing your heart rate and your blood pressure to get it down to its target gland.” She ran her hand down his chest and let it come to rest between his legs, gently cupping his balls and she whispered, “Here.”

He reached out and pulled her bra straps down her shoulders as he brought his lips to her ear.

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

“I could keep going,” she said, letting her hand linger on his groin and feeling him harden beneath the fabric of his jeans.

“I think that’s enough for today, Professor. But I think I need more visual stimuli.”

He let his hands travel down to the waistband of her jeans and ran his fingers under it before working the button open and the zipper down. By the time he had her pants off she felt her own heart racing and her arousal throbbing and insistent between her legs. He took a step back and drank in the sight of her half naked in front of him.

“God damn,” he said, and then he moved in closer.

He reached around and cupped her ass, pulling her into him, and leaned in for a kiss – starting slow but building to an intensity that had her clawing at his back and his neck and pulling his hair. He tore his lips from hers just long enough to reach back and rip his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, and the sight of his bare chest and stomach sent a surge of heat straight to her core. She didn’t have much of a chance to admire it, though, because he was back on her in a moment, his kiss hungry as he grabbed her hips and nudged her towards the side of the table not littered with used plates and cutlery. He moved his lips to her neck and kissed and licked his way down to her collarbone and she moaned, and when he reached around to unclasp her bra with one hand and tore it off her with the other she let out a little gasp when the air hit her bare skin. He took her hardened nipple in his mouth, and his hot breath coupled with the warm skin of his palm cupping her other breast felt like heaven. She was wet already but now she was soaking and aching for him, and though she could have stayed like that forever she was more than happy when he reached down and slid her panties to the floor. She stepped out of them and kicked them away, but when she reached for his belt he grabbed her wrists and stopped her.

“Get on the table,” he said. “It’s time for dessert.”

She hoisted herself up, feeling the wood cold against her bare ass, and before she knew it he had her flat on her back with her ass hanging off the table’s edge, her thighs pushed back as far as they could go as he buried his face between her legs. He wrapped his arms around her thighs, holding her in place as he spread her pussy open with his thumb and forefinger, his other hand flat on her stomach as he began to drag his tongue up her entrance. She arched her back when she felt his lips wrap around her clit but he held her in place. A few quick flicks of his tongue and he moved it back down, dipping it inside her as his thumb started working her nub in slow circles. He found a rhythm and speed that pleased her and she let him know it with every moan. She wasn’t shy about it either, and each time his given name passed her lips he would moan against her flesh and bring her even closer.

He applied the same tireless dedication to getting her off as he always did to his work and she sang his praises because he was doing her just right and he deserved every word of it. She told him how good he was, how amazing he felt, how hard she was going to come, and she could feel him smile against her flesh for a moment before he kept going. She knew he liked it when she cried his name out, and as he brought her to the edge she buried her hands in his hair and pulled, crying out louder and louder until he took his hand from her clit and worked two knobby fingers inside her to finish her off. She lost all ability to form words and he held her steady as she came, though she bucked against him, and somewhere beneath the sounds of her pleasure she heard the sound of muffled laughter. It was a sound she knew well, but instead of being infuriating it was sexy as hell and even coming down from her orgasm she was already thinking of the next one and how he might give it to her.

He let her legs drop and slid his body up on top of hers, stopping briefly to kiss each nipple before kissing her deeply to share the taste of her. He gave her lower lip a little nibble and let out some sort of growling sound and she knew she needed him inside her and soon.

“Fuck me. Fuck me right here.”

He smiled and shook his head.

“I have other plans for you,” he said, and he pulled her upright and off the table.

He steadied her as she stood on wobbly legs, and this time when she went for his belt he let her. He kicked his shoes off and she made short work of his jeans and his boxers, so strong was her need for him, and when his cock sprung loose she couldn’t hide her pleasure at the sight of it. He was hard, though she knew she could make him harder, but even not quite there yet it was impressive in both size and girth. He knew it, too, and he smiled at her as she took him in her hand, but the smile quickly turned to slack-jawed wonder as she stroked his cock as devotedly as she’d stroked his ego. Her cupped her neck and kissed her while she brought her other hand down and he moaned into her mouth when he felt it join its twin. He pulled out of the kiss and whispered low and gritty against her lips.

“I want you up against that wall.”

“Oh do you, now?”

“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve thought about dragging you out of your lab into the hallway and fucking you senseless against the door to the supply closet I’d never have to work a day in my life.”

“That’s a very specific fantasy, Professor Renner.”

“I have a lot of them, but that one’s my favorite. Now move.”

Mal let go of him and started to walk over to the wall in question when he gave her a nice hard slap on the ass and barked, “faster.” He couldn’t see her smile but it didn’t matter because in a flash he’d spun her around and pushed her up against the cold plaster, breathing heavy against her neck as he rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit. He reached up to take his glasses off but she stopped him.

“Leave them on,” she said and he smiled as she brought one leg up and hooked it around his thigh to open herself up to him.

She brought her arms up and wrapped them around his neck and he told her to hold on as he positioned himself just right. When he was ready he reached down and lifted her by the thighs and she clung tight to him as he entered her slowly. He had been right when he’d said she’d gone unfucked for too long and he could feel how tight she was as he pushed his way inside her. She bit her lip and gripped him tighter as she took him in and he stopped.

“You OK?”

“Oh, just fuck me already, you pussy.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Be careful what you wish for.”

He gave a rough snap of his hips and she groaned because it hurt so good and she wanted it hard and fast and she knew he would give it to her. She wasn’t disappointed, and if he’d had any reservations they were gone as he started to fuck her without mercy as he looked deep in her eyes.

“Sweet Christ you are so fucking tight. Goddamn.”

“Like your fantasy?”

He responded with a series of deep thrusts punctuating his word. “So. Much. Better.”

His body was hard against her, and though he was solidly built and perfectly muscled and even stronger than he looked, she could tell his muscles were straining to keep that pace carrying her weight. He was sweating and puffing out air and almost wincing he was working so hard but he didn’t stop. She could tell just by the effort how long he’d wanted this, and the animal way he was taking her was so fucking hot she could barely think much less speak. She let him have her, whatever way he wanted her, and he’d practically fucked her through the wall by the time he dropped her legs and braced himself on the wall.

“Bed?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Couch.”

He practically dragged her into the living room, not that she needed much prompting, and plopped down onto the leather. He reached up and pulled her down on top of him and she straddled him, rubbing herself up and down his length as she spoke low in his ear.

“Which fantasy is this?”

“This one is the couch in my office. You’re wearing that fucking silk blouse with all the buttons I just want to rip off with my teeth.”

She kept sliding herself along his cock as she nibbled his earlobe. “I didn’t know you had such an extensive knowledge of my wardrobe, Professor. What else am I wearing?”

“That tight black skirt that makes me want to take a bite out of your ass every time I see it. And I push it up and you’re not wearing any underwear and… oh, Christ, just ride me.”

“Yes, sir.”

She reached down and ran the tip of his cock across her lips and he jerked up a bit, aching to be inside her again, and when she sank down onto him and started to move he grabbed her hips and started to push and pull in time with her rhythm. She grabbed his muscular shoulders for purchase and started to bounce, and when he moved his hands from her hips to her ass he squeezed so hard she thought he might leave bruises. She didn’t give a fuck, though, because his cock felt like heaven and he was staring at her with his eyes blown wide and his mouth open. She hated to break eye contact but her clit was screaming for contact so she hunched over him and started to roll her hips with his cock buried deep inside of her, his treasure trail tickling at her skin as she moved. She could feel herself getting close and she picked up her speed, and when her toes started to curl and her breathing grew sharp and heavy he wrapped his arms around her back and started to fuck up into her. She buried her head between his neck and shoulder, moaning his name in his ear, and he loved it just as much as he did the first time, and when he felt her pussy start to pulse on him he moaned and buried his cock inside her to the hilt, letting her ride it out on top of him. She grabbed onto his biceps as she came, feeling the muscles hard in her hands, and when she was done she brought her mouth to his shoulder and took a bite. He laughed when he felt it and kept his strokes soft and slow beneath her.

“I thought biting wasn’t your thing,” he said.

She brought her mouth to his and kissed him, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and dragging it as she pulled away. “I lied.”

“I knew it.”

“Did not,” she said, fiddling with his glasses. “So what else you got, Professor?”

“Hmmm… let’s see,” he said, still pumping her slowly. “There’s the one in the backseat of my car.”

“Too cold.”

“There’s the one where I fuck you in the shower at the fitness center.”

“I already showered.”

He smiled. “I got it.”

She leaned in and whispered, “Do tell.”

“There’s the one where I get you ass up in my bed and begging for it.”

“I think we have a winner,” she said, and she smiled because that thought had crossed her mind a time or two, only it was her bed and not his.

She climbed off of him and he stood, but before she could ask which way the bedroom was he had her up and over his shoulder and was carting her off to his bed like some sort of Neanderthal claiming a woman as his prize. When he reached the foot of the bed he threw her down, watching her tits bounce and licking his lips.

“Turn over,” he said, his voice gravelly. “And get that sweet ass in the air.”

She flashed him a coy smile as she moved slowly into position – slower than she knew he wanted, but the anticipation was part of the fun and she wanted him to take in the sight of her, palms flat on the bedspread and completely exposed to him. She wanted him to see how wet and swollen she was and know that he had made her that way.

“God damn that’s pretty,” he said, and she felt his big hands on her ass and his cock sliding between her cheeks before he moved it lower.

“You wanna get fucked?”

“You know I do.”

“Beg me.”

“Please, Professor. Please fuck me.”

He rubbed his tip against her entrance but he pulled away.

“Again,” he said, “and call me Doctor.”

“Oh, God, please fuck me, Doctor Renner. Fuck me stupid.”

She heard him groan and she knew she had him. He stood behind her at the edge of the bed and got in position before he pushed just the tip inside.

“You better hold on to something,” he said, and then he grabbed her hips and slammed into her so hard she almost lost her balance. “I told you.”

He started thrusting fast and deep, and the sound of his balls smacking rhythmically against her mixed with his grunts and her cries formed some sort of beautifully lewd symphony in the room. She knew he couldn’t possibly last much longer at that point which was almost a good thing because he was really giving it to her, the way she knew he must have done in whatever fantasy he was living out. This one seemed almost angry – the type of thing he must have thought about doing to her after she’d won an argument – and it became even more apparent when he gripped her ass hard and gave it a nice hard smack with one hand before pulling her upright by the hair with the other.

He growled in her ear. “You’ve got a smart mouth, you know that?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“No, Doctor.”

“Say you’re sorry.”

He fucked up into her viciously and she almost couldn’t breathe to speak but she managed to squeak out the words.

“I’m sorry.”

His thrusts became erratic and she knew he was about to blow. She wanted to watch his face as he came and she would get her wish because he pulled her head all the way back and stared down into her eyes.

“I’m gonna shove my cock in that smart mouth of yours and shut you the fuck up.”

He let go of her and pulled out and she turned around and grabbed the base of his shaft, wrapping her lips around him and tasting her own juices as she sucked and pumped him. She looked up at him while she did it and he wore that smile that used to drive her crazy, but now she was crazy with the need to taste him and watch his face contort in orgasmic bliss and she thought to herself she’d never wanted anything more than she wanted this.

“Those lips look pretty wrapped around my dick,” he said. “And they’re about to look even prettier.”

She moaned onto his cock and he brought his hands into her hair and fisted it. Her free hand cupped his balls, so tight and ready, and he started to huff and puff.

“Look at me,” he said, and she did because his face was all she wanted to see.

When she felt the first spurt hit the back of her throat she swallowed quick and readied herself for the rest. His perfect pouty lips were moist where he’d wet them and pursed into a perfect O and his forehead was creased in concentration. It was the way his brow always looked when he was singularly focused on something, a look she knew well, only this time his focus was on her and the way she looked as she sucked him dry and swallowed everything he had to give her. When he was finished she broke eye contact and swirled her tongue around his tip, so sensitive now that he jerked a little when he felt her. When he couldn’t take anymore he dropped to his knees in front of her and she placed her hands on his chest, toying with that little patch of hair at his breastbone with a satisfied smile on her face. He threw his glasses onto the bed behind her and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close and nuzzling his head between her breasts. She waited for his breathing to return to something resembling normal before she spoke.

“I’d give that a B,” she said, and he started to chuckle against her skin before looking up at her.

“Are you shitting me? That was A+ material.”

She laughed and tousled his hair a bit before she leaned in to kiss him. She stopped just short of his lips and smiled.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “The semester’s not over yet. You’ll have plenty of chances to earn extra credit.”


End file.
